


The race against the Countdown

by Seiteki9



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, Soulmates, maybe some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seiteki9/pseuds/Seiteki9
Summary: During a time when the human race needs to focus on procreation, Keith is refusing to acknowledge the device attaching him to his soulmate: The Countdown."It's not that I don't believe in love... I am just terrified that it doesn't believe in me..."





	1. The beginning of a bad day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm putting these tags now...  
> I haven't decided the entire thing yet, so I might modify them (is that even possible?)
> 
> I know the soulmate thing as been done, redone, washed, rewashed, pressed and compressed, but it makes my fangirl heart beat. XP

Belief in such a device that could attach him to one single soul in the entire universe was tempting, but Keith refused to bow down to it. It was a sham, a ridiculous way to force procreation.

As the world was, all humans, in the late years of 2200, were more interested in the Internet, machines, the search for their own success through the easiest mean possible, than actually living. This state of engrossness became so pronounced, that anybody and everybody’s life was more prominent online, than offline. Series of androids served all possible needs, they cooked, worked, went shopping; the lack of human interaction had dissolved any type of relationship in the blink of an eye. By 2210, if you crossed your mother on the way to the bathroom, you had a very exciting day and usually, people had bathrooms in their fully functional, automated bedroom (full service, food, clean services, no need to dress, paradise). By the year 2296, all hope for a bright future was gone.

The leaders of the known World had to act, even if Instagram, Facebook, Tumblr, YouTube and so on and so forth felt so much more inviting to them. They pulled the youngest and the brightest out of their own hell and worked on a solution: Project COUNTDOWN.

A group of carefully fifty people of every race were locked in a room and forced to interact with one another while ten scientists analyzed, prodded, tested and forced intimacy on them, searching for the answer. The hole endeavour was considered cruel, inhuman, the officials AND scientists that participated in it faced prison for life afterwards, but it still brought positive results.

A bright scientist named John Holt, a YouTube star, a slob with a fascination for Supernovas, was the one who found the perfect resolution to all their problems. What if… WHAT IF a device found your perfect match? It limited interaction, would force you to get out of your house, encourage basic need for food, hygiene and take you off the Internet. It was the crude idea, if it worked, they might all be saved.

Building the device in question was the hardest part, since releasing the test subjects by law, putting the scientists and the government officials in prison for life while two remaining scientists, mostly Holt, had to work tirelessly on the Countdown.

In the year 2315, there was a breakthrough and a new hope shuddered through the planet. By then, the population had dwindled to a third of its original number and people still did not dare extracting themselves from their houses. Mandatory installation of the device laws passed throughout the world, along with outdoor regulations, internet limitations and the destruction of 90% of the android population.

The device was a simple watch-like screen with numbers counting down. Made from organic material, attached to the right wrist by the nerves, muscles and bones, it was impossible to take off. Mr. John Holt won himself stardom and spent the rest of his days in prison, paying for the spark of hope that awoke the human race with his life.

***

Keith was not a difficult guy, he just was alone, grumpy and snappy. When people met him, he was considered usually handsome, even charming, then driven and finally a pain, annoying and rude. The young man had stopped trying by the time his third foster family sent him back. The orphanage was a comfortable place, being older meant he was mostly left alone by the sisters, the children AND the parents that were looking to adopt.

At his young age, he learned that the world was a fucked up place. It was cruel, it took more than it gave and when it did, it always expected twice as much back.

Not believing in the concept of the Countdown had been easy for him. His own parents had been gaga over the thing, like everybody else. They had met because of it, would always gush about the first time their eyes had crossed. Back then, it was mostly annoying, but it stopped being so when his mother died.

It was a silly accident, nothing to be done. On a snowy day, young Keith (about 8 and a half years old) had taken the bus to school, and since he was so young, his mother had decided she would go pick him up at the end of the day. He did not know, he had not checked the messages on his communication device and still did not check when it beeped urgently. It was probably because his headphones were blaring loud music in his ears, or the candy he exchanged for the racer card (Mr. J. S.D. Keaton, his hero!), or maybe he did not care. He was already a little rebel after all (Who made their beds? NOT HIM! Hardcore, he was HARDCORE.)

That night, when he came home half an hour late, his father was standing in the entryway, his backed turned. He barely moved his head when Keith walked in and talked, making the boy pull his headphones down.

\- What?

His father sighed, and his voice shivered slightly. Still, he did not move.

\- I said… where have you been?

Keith blinked in confusion.

\- I… came from school, but there was an accident on the way. We had to take a detour.

His father’s head sunk in his shoulders and the boy noticed how his fist clenched, released and clenched again, leaving red marks at the bottom of his palms.

\- I see. Why did you not wait for your mother at school?

Wait at school? Keith frowned and looked at his communication device. There were 4 messages pending, 3 flagged has urgent. He figured the urgent ones were probably his parents trying to find him. He put the device back in his pocket.

\- I’m sorry daddy, I didn’t see the pm. I just… took the bus.

\- Please look at your messages before leaving school, boy.

His voice broke at the end of his sentence.

He walked away without another word, locking himself in his room and refused to get out. When Keith knocked and asked when his mother was coming back, he did not answer. When he knocked to ask for diner, he did not answer. When he screamed for attention, he did not answer. He did not answer when Keith finally read his messages.

_“Stay at school sweetie, mommy is coming to pick you up.”_

Keith frowned; he clicked to read the second one.

_“Keith I’m here, where are you?”_

Biting his lower lip, feeling a little bit ashamed, he realized he had worried his mother. He clicked again.

_“KEITH ANSWER ME!”_

He swallowed hard; she had REALLY worried about him.

He clicked again and the words jumped at him. The last message was from his father.

**_“Your mother is dead”._ **

His small hands slid from the door. Dead… dead like… DEAD dead? Dead, GONE dead? It did not down on him how horrible a way this was to learn the news. Breath caught in his throat as his body gave way. Little Keith understood what death meant. All his grandparents were gone, most of them had been sick before they met, but his favorite gran-gran has lived long enough for him to know what “dead” meant. Dead meant gone, dead meant he would never see her again. Dead meant… she had left him.

**_“Your mother is dead.”_ **

Even with his eyes opened, he could not see. The world blurred as tears flooded his vision. She had gone to pick him up, he had not seen her message and left. She got into an accident on the way back, possibly by rushing to find her son.

The horror of it turned the safe place in his mind dark. It was his fault. He was to blame.

_I… came from school, but there was an accident on the way. We had to take a detour._

_I… came from school, but there was an accident on the way. We had to take a detour._

_I… came from school, but there was an accident on the way. We had to take a detour._

 

His own words rolled around in his head for hours. He was young, but bright. An accident. Take a detour. And…

**_“Your mother is dead.”_ **

The words rang out in his head, hollow. He had passed her without knowing.

The time still moved forward even if Keith willed it to stay still, both he and his father did not interact with one another. The boy did try, but his father stayed locked up, without a sound. By the tenth day, the school had called about so many times he did not know how to count them anymore and since Keith was not allowed to answer the phone, it rung endlessly in the house. By the evening, the Police knocked at his door and a kind, young woman dressed in a light blue suit with kind brown eyes coerced him into opening the door.

By then, he had lost 5 pounds, which was a lot for a child. He had barely eaten anything (All the popsicles in the freezer were gone, and he could not reach the ice cream.), did not know how to clean himself and had left the house in disarray. He did not understand the looks of the adults that came in his home, nor did he understand why they cringed when he took a bite out of a rotten apple he had found that morning (There were still a few oranges, but… he did not know how to peel them…).

He nodded when they asked if his father was home, accepting when they asked if they could see him. He took the kind woman’s hand, leading her upstairs, the police officer followed. He knew his father’s room really smelled bad, but he was used to it by now. Therefore, when he knocked on the door, asking for his daddy again, he knew there would be no answer, so he turned around and shrugged. Even now, he remembers the look on their faces.

Worry…

Disgust…

Shame…

Horror…

They forced the door open and the lady did not have time to take him away before he saw.

His father was floating. His head was purple.

It was hard to tell if he was happy, but he was floating. Keith decided then that he was probably happy.

That day, they took him away, never to come back. They took them both.

So Keith… did not believe. The Countdown was a ridiculous idea. His father had committed suicide out of loss and love for his poor wife. He had not loved Keith enough, probably blamed him for the entire thing. Keith blamed himself too.

The young man, as he aged, denied even having the thing on his arm. He took the habit of wearing thick black fingerless gloves, hiding his screen. He even ignored anybody who dared speaking to him about the stupid piece of junk, which was everybody. He ignored EVERYBODY. Well almost, he still had a single friend.

This single friend also did not believe. She had met her soulmate at a young age and been fiercely turned down. She broke her Countdown that evening with a sledgehammer, along with her wrist, now she just denied its existence.

Kathie was not a hard person to deal with and never spoke of the broken clock. **That** was fantastic. He loved her for it.

When they met, she had been this small, scrawny child, not so different then himself. She lived under the name of “Holt”, showered with the love and admiration for John Holt that she did not want. She loved androids, computers, video games and staying up late to watch crappy movies. Keith liked her a lot. She was a soul sister he cherished and doted on.

By the time he reached his 25th birthday and she her 23rd, her smallness and scrawniness was gone. She had become a tall, slender person. Her hair a slight darker shade of brown, cut short. She moved with a determined grace, catching the eye of anybody and everybody who cared to looked. She had shed the name of Kathie Holt, for Pidge Gunderson, annoyed by the fame and not associating with any kind of gender, since she had no need for it. The young man knew she did this to save her heart. Her soulmate had been an asshole; Keith hoped he never met his own and especially never hers.

Keith was fond of her. She took no bullshit, did not talk when it was not necessary and did not ask unfounded questions. She was the perfect friend; he would do anything for her.

Therefore, on an uneventful morning, when she called him at 5am for company, he pulled himself out of bed without so much as a growl. He ignored the stinging pain in his right arm, the tingling unnatural warmth in his body and the need to throw up his none existing breakfast as he pushed out of his home. She had been adamant, apparently needing help with her special project.

He climbed his motorcycle and darted off, reaching her school in no time. Parking in his usual spot, he leaned forward, feeling his stomach twist mercilessly. He heaved and forced a deep cleansing breath in his lungs, regretting not having told her it was a bad day.

As bad days come, this was probably the worst he had ever dealt with in the last year. They happened every once in a while, usually after nightmares that left him bruised from injuries that healed long ago. However, it had never been this impossible to live with. His insides just refused to cooperate.

Especially his right arm, it hurt like a bitch. WHY would it DO that?

He grabbed it and pressed strongly on his wrist, feeling the Countdown under his fingers, the nausea doubled over making him gasp. _“Oh god… this is impossible…”_ he told himself.

Reaching up, he tapped at the communication device attached to his ear. It beeped softly and within 5 seconds, Pidge answered.

\- Hey jerk. You there yet?

He chuckled wearily.

\- Yeah well, I am but…

He growled, putting a hand on his mouth, holding back the need to empty his stomach that was increasing by the second.

\- What is it Keith?

She sounded worried.

\- I’m sorry nerd. I’m feeling really s-sick right now. I’m in the parking lot, do you mind if I come later? I really need to lay d… down.

\- Gimme a minute, I’ll be right there! Stay put!

His mouth opened in objection but had no time to before she instantaneously hung up.

He growled. - Damn it.

GOD… he felt like hell.

However, he still dragged himself off his motorcycle and eyed the green grass along the edge of the parking lot. Perfect, a free bed. His shoes felt like lead as he stepped forward slowly. The very idea of moving made everything around him spin as sparks of white flashed in front of his eyes.

A searing pain in his right arm made him gasp in pain and the world tilted to a strange angle. He had nothing to grab to save himself from the fall so he just gave up. He might get a few bruises, but at least he would not be moving.

To his surprise, something similar to a large metal bar caught him in the stomach. The sudden pressure released his control on his stomach. With a desperate whimper, he vomited the entire content of his stomach, coughing and spitting. His eyes watered in pain, his head was splitting open and his arm throbbed mercilessly.

\- Omg! What’s wrong? Are you alright?

The voice was deep, concerned and clearly alarmed. Noises of disgust around him sounded and people murmured, but the man hang on to Keith solidly.

Keith coughed again, moaning in agony. He did not need help; he just… needed to lay down. If he could just sleep, he would be fine. Sleep always solved everything or at least tempered it. He heaved some more and finally opened his eyes. He stared at the mess he had just caused: A mess all over the pavement, had dirtied himself and the man’s pants and shoes. Great. The young man did not know if anybody could survive such a shameful event, it was a good thing his nerves were impenetrable.

He swallowed his pride and tried to stand. Reaching up with his right hand, he rested it on the man’s chest, grabbing on to his shirt.

\- I’m f-fine… I just… need t’sleep…

His words slurred, forced out of his mouth while his tongue refused to cooperate.

\- You don’t look fine at all. Let me bring you to the nurse’s office.

\- …what…? No…!

Keith turned his head to see whom he was dealing with. The pain was instantaneous when the man grabbed his wrist gently to help him stand. That, was the end of him as an agonizing scream was ripped out of his mouth and his consciousness slipped away.

One single thing registered in his mind as he fell: the color of his saviour’s eyes. A gray deep as a May storm and sharp like the finest blade, but kind… so kind. He could do with a little kindness right about now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been trying to write this thing for the last few months and I finally reached a version that I like (Can tolerate?!).  
> I haven't written any fanfics since my high school days, so I apologize if I'm a tad rusty.
> 
> That was a long of explaining and exposition. It feels like a heavy setting anyway... by chapter 2, stuff is going to happen.
> 
> Comments and kudos are looooved. <3 
> 
> I art a lot and love to chat, so come say hi!  
> seiteki9.tumblr.com


	2. The awkward rhythm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faithful meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith seems to hurt a lot in this chapter and I apologize for it.  
> I've pretty much set up the entire world of it now. Smooth sailing from now? Maybe?
> 
> Who am I kidding, right?

As far as sleep goes, Keith was prone to nightmares, fevers and overall restlessness. He never felt safe, had a tendency to bundle up in ten blankets to feel warm or to trick his mind from loneliness. He rarely woke up refreshed or rested, so when he unglued his eyes and stared at the white sterile ceiling, his first thought was not about « where he was » or « what had happened ». His first thought was « I'm not tired... ».

He turned his head towards the light filtering through the blinds of a small window and noted how his head did not hurt, how his nausea was gone. It felt strange. The only remaining pain was on his stomach, where he had been caught falling and the ache in his arm that pounded dully. However, he could say that he was at peace, which was a strange notion. Moving his arm slowly, he ignored the green glare of the Countdown's screen on his wrist and grabbed his shirt above his heart.

No.

He was full... his heart was full.

He took a deep breath and sighed, closing his eyes back up. It felt good.

\- You're awake.

His grip tightened in surprise as he widened his eyes. The voice was male, deep and soft, nothing to be scared of, but Keith was always cautious. He heard the sound of paper and a book closing to his left, the creaking of a chair and the weight of a hand pressed on the thin blankets next to him. The man was close, just beside his bed.

He swallowed, building up his courage and turned around slowly. The person sitting beside him was smiling. His arms were larger than Keith's tights, his chest wide and muscular and his face carved by the Gods, with his square jaw, high cheekbones and thin almond shaped eyes. The only strange thing about him was his hair: black, in an undercut with a strikingly white forelock falling softly on his forehead. The young man ignored the scar on his nose and just stared, recognizing the color of his eyes. Gray.

The man tilted his head to the side, his smile widened. His lips were full and a soft shade of pink, complementing his light skin tone. There were no denying it, this man was... handsome, gut twisting, toes curling, mouth wateringly gorgeous.

\- Hi.

Keith must have been blushing, because the man chuckled softly before talking again.

\- Are you all right? 

Keith nodded, realizing he was unable to presently utter a sound. He pushed himself in a sitting position and just... gaped at the man. The man still smiled, completely comfortable with himself. He did not understand the “golden aura” this person was emitting. I mean, who could be so angelic by just… sitting there? Apparently, this man could.

There was a soft buzzing sound and he pulled a communication device from his pocket, staring at it. He started typing, which gave the time for Keith to admire him to his leisure. (And maybe... calm down?!) He wondered about the heat pooling in his lower abdomen and the tingling sensation at the base of his spine. He caught himself marveling at his long and thick eyelashes and he bit his lower lip when the man rubbed his own with the back of his knuckles. 

He watched how his white tuft of hair slid across his forehead as he tilted his head, laughing softly at his device. Keith recognized the kindness among the silver coolness and shimmering humor filling his eyes. He felt like he might be able to reach out and grab unto it, this gentle softness that attracted him so eagerly.

He had no idea how anybody could make him feel this way, especially not a stranger, but there it was. This person was a strange ideal he did not even know about.

His visitor's eyes popped back up and he smirked, his eyes dancing with humor.

\- You are staring, Keith.

Keith’s expression twisted between a frown and surprise. His only answer to being caught was brusque.

\- How do you know my name?

\- Ah, he can speak! Marvelous!

Keith's frown deepened, his grip tightening on his own shirt. He did not want to be mad or to glare, but he was having a hard time not to. He was being made fun of, he did not like that.

\- Of course I can speak.

His answer was rougher than he intended, neighboring a snarl. Keith knew he had a sharp tempter, he just wished he could keep it in check more easily, especially in front of this angelic person (too much… angelic was too much, maybe… godly... eerr… heroic… pff… or… perfect?). 

The man laughed some more, patting the bed besides Keith with his right hand.

\- Well, I figured you must. You DID talk before keeling over earlier. Pidge told me your name.

Oh Pidge, so she had been here. His eyes searched the room, as if she would suddenly pop out of a box.

\- Right… and how do I call you?

\- Shiro.

Keith let go of his shirt, resting his hand on his lap. He grimaced as he remembered what had happened, the shame burned at the back of his mind.

\- You're the one who... helped me.

Shiro nodded once and smiled again.

\- Thanks... I... What did you catch me with? It felt like... a metal pipe.

Looking down, he pulled his shirt up and gaped at the bruise already starting to form on his stomach. He put a hand on his skin, rubbing it, as if it could help and he looked back up at Shiro. The man's smile was gone; he was chewing at his lower lip, visibly upset. Even though the man’s gaze lingered on his stomach, Keith did not think anything of it.

\- Right. I'm sorry.

The apology came as a surprise. This person had been vomited on, screamed at and had caught him before he fell flat into his own mess.

\- What are you apologizing for? 

Shiro sighed, passing a hand through his hair. He lifted his hand from the bed and pulled on his glove and on the sleeve of the black sweater he was wearing.

\- I caught you with my arm.

« Arm » was an understatement; it was a prosthetic, a very sophisticated one too. Keith had heard about those, but had never seen one so close before. It matched the size of his left arm perfectly. So much that it melded with the body it was attached on. He had read on the subject out of curiosity when they had become available on the market: Alloy metal, full motor skills, precise, it even produced a standard body warmth and gave the wearer a basic sense of feeling as if the old arm was still functional. Truly, a piece of art.

\- Oh, wow!

Keith reached out before Shiro could even react and grabbed his hand, pulling it close. The excitement rose in his chest like boiling water.

\- I've never seen one so close. It's so great! Do you really have full motor skills? Can you feel my hands? How high does it go?

Shiro tensed besides him and pulled his hand free almost instantly. He pressed a finger on Keith's forehead and pushed him back down on his pillow gently.

\- Yes I do. Yes I can. And high enough.

His answer was clipped, and sounded more like a growl than anything else. He pulled his sleeve back down and his glove back on. He seemed uncomfortable and upset, but did not mention it, leaning back on his chair, far away, so that Keith could not grab him anymore.

They stared at one another for a short moment. Shiro weary and Keith wondering about what had just happened. It was an unbearable moment and the young man did not know why. It became worse when Keith noticed Shiro's eyes sliding down his face and to his right wrist. He furrowed his brows and pulled on the blankets, hiding the unnatural green glow of his (good for nothing, annoying, piece of shit…) Countdown.

\- Well, at least you didn't loose your natural rudeness.

Pidge was leaning against the doorframe holding two coffee cups. Stepping into the room and walking to Shiro, she gave him one cup. Shiro smiled at her, nodding as thanks and taking the cup.

\- Really Keith, you can't just touch someone's arm, especially a prosthetic, without asking.

\- I can't?

She sat on the bed gracefully, crossing her legs and sipped on her coffee noisily.

\- You can't.

\- Oh...

He turned his gaze towards Shiro and pouted. The man felt clearly too large for his skin and kept his right arm tight against his body, while he drank his coffee with the left. The movement seemed unnatural. Keith thought he must be right-handed and was forcing himself to not bring attention to his prosthetic by using his left hand. Saddening as it was, he wondered how he had not thought anybody would be put off with loosing an arm (Of course, who would not?) and another person marveling at it (That, he did not get… it was such a great piece of machinery).

\- Sorry...?

Both he and Pidge raised an eyebrow, mirroring each other. It was almost comical how unimpressed by his performance they were. Shameful.

He bowed forward, hiding his face with his hair. He stopped himself, swallowing painfully. This man had helped him and he was rude. He had not noticed, he was not good with feelings after all but... well... aaah... he really wished he was a better person. This unknown man had just helped him from the goodness of his heart and here he was being impolite, not grateful enough and he was not even able to express himself properly.

\- I... am really sorry...

Sighing loudly, Pidge just shook her head. Keith knew she did, she always did that when she was exasperated. He really wished he were better with words.

\- Don’t expect more Shiro. Keith isn’t… a “talker”. He feels more than anything else. Get this, you at least got a bow out of him, which is more than I ever got.

A heavy silence settled between them and the young man felt his shoulders sag under the weight of it. He was just glad Shiro would eventually leave and he would never see him again. “For the best”, he thought. There were reasons why Pidge was his only friend, besides the fact that he hated everybody (As mentioned before), he was naturally awkward in any given situation. He could turn making toast into a freaking joke (…right, that happened before… but the wire was too long and… anyway…).

He heard a soft chuckled and his body tensed when a large metal palm rested on his crisped hands. His eyes widened.

\- It’s fine. I forgive you… for everything.

Keith swallowed again and looked up through his bangs. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

\- Everything?

Shiro hummed softly and smiled.

\- Yeah. Thank you… for not being put off by my arm. People don’t like… to touch it and it bothers them when they realize I don’t have a…

He stopped mid-sentence, looking away.

Keith’s eyes narrowed. He turned his hands and grabbed Shiro’s again. He did not understand, what was wrong with the prosthetic? Was it gross? Broken? Did it malfunction? Turning the hand around, he pouted.

\- You don’t have a what? What’s wrong with it? I thought these were flawless.

Shiro blinked in surprise, visibly in the midst of pulling his hand away again, and opened his mouth to answer, but was immediately cut off by a shrill scream.

\- SHIRO! ARE YOU OKAY?

A tall, thin, olive skinned man rushed into the room, immediately followed by a taller female with even darker skin and flowy white hair. He stopped short, his eyes wandering between Keith and Shiro, than down at their hands. He frowned, so Keith let go of Shiro’s hand immediately, putting his own down on the bed like he had been caught doing something bad.

\- DUDE, I thought you were INJURED. You’re just fine. What the hell! Allura! Talk to him for me, I was WORRIED.

The female, Allura, sighed, stopping at the end of the bed. Keith’s gaze followed her, mesmerized by how her hair just floated like a cloud around her shoulders, but he stopped short when he noticed Pidge’s body language. She was sitting straight like a rode, tense, visibly angry. Her grip on her coffee cup was so tight, it made the cheap material bend under her fingers, rising the level of the liquid dangerously close to the rim. Drops slide down the side and dribbled on her jeans. She ignored it.

\- Lance, he told you he was fine. YOU chose to ignore his message and dragged ME here. You are the one who needs a stern talking to.

Lance growled in indignation and crossed his arms on his chest, pouting. He muttered under his breath something that sounded like “Fine… always playing favorites…” Keith followed the man’s gaze when it landed on Pidge, he smirked and winked at her playfully.

Shaking her head, Allura’s blue eyes found Keith; she leveled at him briefly and smiled. Or tried to, as her mouth stretched across her perfect face, the kindness she was trying to project failed to reach her eyes.

\- We apologize for the racket. I was present when you collapsed. I hope you are faring better.

Keith’s eyes darted to her and back to Pidge, her face had gone translucent with anger. She turned her head, ignoring the two people that had just come in the room, especially the one that had acknowledged her presence.

Lance huffed, slightly annoyed and proceeded to also ignore her.

\- I’m fine.

Keith mumbled, slightly intimidated what this woman radiating confidence. 

\- Excellent.

Blatantly disregarding him seconds later, she turned to Shiro and grinned. This time, happiness glimmered in her eyes. He sighed in relief; he was not good with strong personalities and this woman, she felt like a large monster about chomp his head off.

\- Shiro, Mr. Slav is hoping you could come to his office as soon as possible. Are you free to do so now?

Pulling his gaze from Pidge’s form, Keith looked back at Shiro, which returned his stare. The man smiled kindly and stood up slowly, rolling his shoulders. His neck popped when he bent it to the side and finally put his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. 

\- Of course, let’s go before he tries calling my comm again. Last time he left so many conflicting messages, I was sobbing in the bathroom. His insistence made me consider cancelling my contract and become a hermit.

Allura laughed. Her eyes had softened around the edges when she caressed his left arm gently, masking the gesture by grabbing it, hanging on as couples do. Keith felt the distant pang of jealousy creep up his spine, tainting his thoughts.

A sour look tainted his features and he turned his head, passing a hand through his hair trying to shake the unwelcome feeling. Him, jealous about a stranger? Ridiculous.

\- Thanks again. 

He mumbled under his breath, barely able to hold back the anger.

\- My pleasure Keith. I’m glad you’re better.

He walked towards the door, speaking softly to Allura with the same kind smile he had given him. He did not know why he had thought Shiro had given him special treatment, but the implication that he was like this with everybody made Keith want to throw up again. He felt a sneer pulling on the corner of his lips when an image of Allura covered in his vomit flashed in his head. He usually did not care for intrusive thoughts, but he still relished in that one. (…disgusting… come on Keith…)

\- Heeeeey, lover boy you’re like myself! Got to 0.00 and found your ladyyyy I seeee! When did you? Was it recent? I bet it was!

His own hand was grasped roughly and he was pulled towards the edge of the bed, as Lance examined his Countdown. He felt nausea rise up his throat when the pain ripped through his muscles all the way to his brain. The only thing he could do was choke on his scream, bringing his left hand to his mouth to keep the bile inside.

\- I remember the green glow. It means it was recent. Why isn’t she here? Did you scare her with your 80s hair, Mullet?

He refused to succumb to the pain, wrenching his hand back and pushing Lance away from the bed with his working arm.

\- Don’t TOUCH me!

He yelled, making Lance stumble backwards. His glare pinned the man who clearly did not understand what had happened. The shock on his features morphed into indignation, disbelief and finally anger.

Keith did not even dare touching his own wrist, trying to get through the agony he felt. It was inhuman, like someone had clawed at his soul and pulled important pieces out.

\- Dude, RELAX! No need to SHOUT. I was just curious. If you didn’t want to share, you just needed to say so, not go all Rambo on me.

Shiro stepped between the two, leaving a displeased Allura at the door. He pressed a hand on Lance’s chest and the other stopped in front of Keith, short of touching him.

\- Okay, that’s enough. Lance, I think it’s time to leave. Let the poor man rest, he had a trying morning.

\- Fine, Shiro the hero, help your little princess.

Lance scowled at Keith, sticking his tongue out and stomped out of the room without another word. Shiro sighed heavily, shaking his head. Glaring at the door Lance had just disappeared to, Keith let his anger simmer quietly in his belly. WHO was a princess? The nerve…

\- You can’t grab someone’s arm without asking, right?

Shiro’s words stung, right… he had also done that. He felt the man’s finger press on his chin, lifting his head up so that he would look at him. Always, still smiling… this person was either the happiest guy on Earth, or the best actor in the world. Nobody was this happy.

His finger slid lightly across his jaw, as he winked at him.

\- Hey, take care of yourself okay. I’ll see you around.

Keith just gaped as his face turned a deep shade of crimson. Laughing, Shiro walked out of the room, he did not prevent Allura from taking his arm again, neither did he reach out to her. The young man found some level of peace at that realization. So, he was not particularly interested in her…? Maybe…?

\- Well… aren’t you in trouble…

Keith stared some more, even if the only thing that was left from his presence was the filtered sound of his chatter with his friends.

\- I am, aren’t I?

\- Yep. Can’t say you have bad tast…

Pidge’s words cut short when she reached up taking hold of her chest, right above her heart. She bend forward, her breath faltered and she swallowed, shutting her eyes in annoyance. Keith goggled at her and then, the pain hit him as well. His heart was being pulled at ruthlessly, cutting his air supply. It lasted only a second.

When he opened his eyes, he was laying on his side. He did not know what was going on, but surely, he did not deserve to hurt so much. He closed his eyes again, shaking the white mist clouding his vision.

His Coutndown flashed in front of his face, turning red, than yellow, than back to green and again, periodically. He peered at the numbers his eyes piercing through the fog, in disbelief.

\- Pidge… would you… bring me a bucket… I think I am going to throw up again… 

The numbers, they were counting up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to write this faster, but I had a hard time joggling between the awkwardness I wanted from this conversation with the level of interest to keep myself writing it... (and you guys reading it) A strange delicate balance I've never delt with before.
> 
> Anyway, here it is.  
> First meetings can't always be perfect right?
> 
> Kudos and comments are love! <3  
> Come chat with me on tumblr, I actually also art a lot: seiteki9.tumblr.com


	3. The teenager phase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor being a dick. XP

With the taste of his own displeasure at the back of his throat, Keith found himself in a large peach office, in front of a longer than necessary marble counter. The tall woman behind it slide a stack of papers in front of him with a black pen, smiling professionally.

\- Thank you for waiting mister Kogane. If you would, please, fill out these forms and give us as much detail as possible.

He eyed her, intrigued by the red tattoos covering her skin. The intricate design was running along her hairline, blending with the vibrant colored dreadlocks tied up in a high ponytail. The color slithered down her neck and disappeared under her sharp white blouse. His gaze dipped down when he noticed how they snaked around her fingers as well, emerging from under the white fabric as if they covered her entire body. He looked back up at her and tilted his head, amused that she was able to get such a job with her look... not that tattoos were considered bad anymore. Still, she was bold. He liked that.

He grabbed the papers and scanned through them absentmindedly. Name, address, age, family, school, and on, and on.

\- Details…?

She nodded cheerfully, her ponytail bobbing behind her head like an excited poodle.

\- Ah. Yes! About how your Countdown stopped working sir. It is most important that we know every single tiny detail, even the ones you find ridiculous.

He frowned. This institution was specialized in Countdown repairs, analysis of the system, whose software was monthly updated, and finally dealt with the mental pain client’s dealt upon learning nothing could be done. Keith thought this probably happened more often then not. He thought it was sad, but... he was not here for that reason.

\- It hasn’t stopped working.

Her nervous chuckle sounded across the empty room as she pushed her long dreadlocks off her shoulders. She coughed in her hand softly, as if she was considering her answer.

\- Sir… we understand that you have come here under the recommendation of the illustrious Matthew Holt and thank him for his services and trust, but if we do not have this information, we cannot help you get better.

She raised her right hand, unbuttoning her cuffs and pulling on her sleeve. Her own Countdown reflected the harsh ceiling lights, its screen completely black. The tattoos were prominent around it, circling it as if it was the most precious part of her body. He wondered what had happened, especially since there seemed to be no damage to it.

He considered asking, and then thought against it. If grabbing the arm of a stranger was bad, imagine asking about what had happened to make them... “apart” from everybody else. He knew he did not like to feel left out, even if, most of the time, it was his own fault. Nodding to himself, he decided that Pidge would probably tell him it was something “you did not do”.

\- Mine will never work again. While you have a chance of finding your true soulmate IF you are open with us. So please, hold nothing back, we deeply wish to help.

Her smile was stiff, forced. She still held herself proud and strong, pulling her sleeve back in place and motioned to the papers in front of him again. He was glad to notice he had been right about her; good thing Pidge had drilled the idea in his head.

However, that did not change the fact that his Countdown was still operational.

He sighed and pulled his gloves off, slamming his arm on the counter noisily. The green glare of his screen had gone back to its normal sheen. It reflection on her face, creating an ugly contrast against her crimson tattoos. He stared at her, as her smile tugged down, almost disappearing.

\- What? It’s working.

Her expression shifted to one of betrayal, before she composed herself and put her secretary face back on. She reached back and grabbed for the papers, trying to pull them out of his hands. He resisted.

\- Mr. Kogane, we hope you understand that we are NOT this type of institution. We understand if you want to meet your soulmate faster but requests such as “make my clock faster” or “flip it to zero so that I may be with this person I really like” will not be met upon and even rebuked. Out of respect for Mr. Holt, we will not let it show on your record that you have deemed acceptable to use your connection so poorly. Not PLEASE, lea…!

He raised his hand to stop her endless talking.

\- You don't understand. I can’t explain. Just look.

She shook her head and pulled the paper again, her eyes barely grazing back down at his wrist. The digits continued slowly counting down. She gave him a disapproving frown.

\- Mr. Kogane…!

\- You. Aren’t. **LOOKING.**

He said with an angry snarl. He wondered why people never took him seriously. He barely new Pidge’s brother and here he had given him a recommendation, which he did not want to follow. He did not want to be examined, did not want to be prodded at, but clearly new something was terribly wrong with him. He was afraid that who ever had made his Countdown go to zero, if he crossed them again, the nausea would be back, the pain, the suffering, until he either ripped the damn thing off his arm or accepted his faith.

A pair of gray eyes flashed in his mind at the thought of whom it could be. He pouted, shaking it off. He just wished he actually had a CHOICE in the matter, which he clearly did not.

She blatantly rolled her eyes, slamming the papers down on the desk in front of her and leaned again above his wrist.

\- What am I looking for?

\- Humour me would you. Just wait.

The Countdown kept ticking for about 10 seconds and then it froze, stuttered and rapidly counted back up, only to freeze up again and continue regularly counting down. She gasped in surprise, leaning in closer.

\- It hasn’t STOPPED. Yesterday, around 7:30 am, it reached 0:00 and about an hour later, it started counting back up, than this. The numbers are… sometimes they are “pacing”… or just not moving.

He huffed, annoyed and pulled his arm back, sliding his fingerless glove back on. He then stared at her as she stared back in utter shock.

\- I… I apologize Mr. Kogane. Of course I… really… I apologize. Here, please fill out the details let me... one moment.

She flipped her papers, scratching the written words: _“How did your Countdown stop”_ and replaced them with: _“Explain situation”_ hastily. She pulled out a few of the sheets, throwing them on her chair and handed back the remaining package to him.

\- We… huhmm… p... please understand that we are a government-managed institution and your personal information, as well as situation, will be kept in strict confidence, your files stored under lock and key. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to call or get an appointment. My name is Ezor and I will be your nurse for today.

She bowed her head down in shame.

\- Our… my deepest apologies.

\- Stop. It’s fine. I wouldn’t believe it if people told me either.

He flopped down on a white couch and started filling out the documents without another word. Within 10 minutes, he was sitting in an even larger office, facing a black ebony desk with the crispiest man he had ever seen, revising his file. The nurse, secretary... anyway, Ezor mentioned his name was Lotor Daibazaal. His skin was white, almost translucent and his hair an otherworldly shade of greyish blues cut short and slicked back. His features were strangely feminine, eyes a deep blue tone, while he was dressed in a sharp black suit with tinges of purple.

Keith watched him as he read, the dread blossoming in his chest. He saw how his brows rose up and furrowed. He dropped the file back down looked at Keith, already thinking about the his case. Keith was a case. Oh god…

\- Mr. Kogane,

\- Keith.

The man paused and gave him a kind smile.

\- Keith, your situation is... peculiar. I must say I have never heard of a Countdown... counting UP.

He stood up and walked towards him, extending a hand. Keith took off his glove, again, and rested his hand in Lotor's. The doctor leaned in and watched.

\- So yesterday, at around 7:30, it reached 0:00. Had you noticed the Countdown was close to its end?

\- No.

\- Are you aware of who your soulmate is?

Keith hesitated.

\- ...no.

Lotor's eyes flickered back up, letting go of Keith's hand, he walked back to his chair and sat down smoothly. He joined his hands together, crossing his long fingers slowly. His entire demeanor was relaxed, his gestures slow and calculated.

\- Why the hesitation?

\- Well... I fainted and, when I woke up. It was still at 0:00. 3 people I did not know came in my room. When they left, the thing started doing...

Keith did an annoyed round gesture towards his own wrist, as if it explained anything.

\- THIS.

Lotor nodded, somewhat understanding.

\- Anybody with a disability?

Keith froze at the question. A disability? A mental one or…? He wrinkled his nose in confusion, analysing all his visitors, blatantly ignoring the fact that Shiro had a prosthetic arm. He remained silent for a good thirty seconds, hoping Lotor would give up on the question. Sadly, he did not.

\- …just one.

\- May I ask what it was?

\- I… he was missing his…

…right arm. He was missing his RIGHT ARM. Shiro did not have a Countdown. Why had he not realized it before? The man’s words resonated in his mind:

_“People don’t like… to touch it and it bothers them when they realize I don’t have a…”_

Finishing the sentence now was a no brainer. Keith felt like punching himself for being so idiotic. Why was he so…! So…!! He sighed loudly, exasperated by his own lack of empathy.

Lotor ignored his depressed reaction, leaning forward. He had a scowl on his face.

\- HE? No, no. Were there any FEMALES with a disability is what I meant. The Countdown does not point towards people of the same sex. It is virtually impossible. In no case, around the world, has there been a single account of the device making such a ridiculous mistake. Females, Keith. Or are you not male?

Keith squinted his eyes at Lotor’s direct, rude reply.

\- What’s wrong with my soulmate being a male?

\- You can’t have children with another male Mr. Kogane. The device is programmed as such and you should be aware that law prohibits homosexuality. Our society cannot tolerate teenager phases such as this and you would be well to put it out of your mind immediately.

His answer was dripping with disgust, his tone turning back to his professional tone. He shook his head, displeased.

However, Keith could not get out of his head the two words that annoyed the hell out of him _“teenager phases”_. So the warmth he felt was a PHASE? Who was this guy kidding? Keith bit the interior of his cheek, holding back a snarky remark, remembering how Pidge’s brother had sent him here. He owed him, he couldn’t just yell at the man. He felt like a child.

His resolve was shaken for a short moment and he decided it did not matter what this stupid doctor thought, as long as he could solve his current problem, Keith would deal with what ever he dished out.

\- Now, think again Mr. Kogane. Females, with a disability, around the time your clock reached 0:00.

A sour look crossed the young man features and he looked away.

\- Two were in the room. One I already know broke her clock at around 14 when it reached its end. The second looked totally fine.

\- So, it might be the second one. You did not confirm I take?

Keith shook his head. He did not think Miss Cloudy Hair had been interested in him and she was not appealing to him. It felt weird to consider her his soulmate. She had been cold, had barely acknowledged him as well as not mentioning anything when their friend noticed his numbers were at 0:00.

He was about to answer when the searing pain he recognized jabbed his arm. His wrist convulsed as he grabbed it and stared down. The green glow blinded him.

 

**00: 00 : 00 : 00 : 00: 00 : 00 : 00 : 00 : 05**

 

What? The familiar wave of nausea gripped his throat and stomach, making him bend forward. No, not again. Not here!

Without a word, Lotor stood up, bringing an empty garbage can in front of the young man. He did not stop for a beat when his desk phone rang, picking up the receiver. He stared at Keith, clearly interested by what was going on.

\- Yes Ezor.

Keith could hear her shrill voice at the other end, giggling in excitement. She started talking in a higher note, clearly excited.

\- Mr. Daibazaal, Takashi has arrived for his appointment.

\- Takashi? You mean Mr. Shirogane. Ezor, you can’t address clients so familiarly, we have talked about this.

She giggled some more. Keith could not help but find her annoying, why were women so enthusiastic all the time? He stared at his screen, his thoughts mingling with his physical pain, making them a thousand times darker. He was glad that the numbers were on a stand still, he willed them to start counting back up, praying God that he was not going to faint this time.

\- I am sorry Sir, but Takashi…

Lotor coughed loudly.

\- I mean, Mr. Shirogane does not mind.

Lotor shook his head.

\- Have “Examination room 3” prepared. We have a few analysis to do on Mr. Kogane as soon as possible and have Mr. Shirogane come in. I have a…

He frowned, looking at Keith.

\- …just let him in.

\- Of course, right away Sir.

And she hung up. The doctor pressed his receiver back down, leaning against his desk. Keith’s eyes remained on his screen, but he could still see him in his peripheral vision. He was staring, analysing his present predicament.

Keith’s eyes widened when, to his horror, the clock moved again, and turning to 0:04, then 0:03… at that point, he barely could hold back. There was a sharp knock on the door, before it opened just has the young man emptied his stomach in the trash can.

He heaved loudly, not registering the conversation that was happening around him. His body was overcome with a shudder, when he was finally able to straighten up. He did not have to look to know that his screen was back to 0:00.

Besides him, the familiar pair of gray eyes were staring at him. He registered how Shiro had rested his left hand on his shoulder, kneeling down besides him. He squeezed it gently, his large palm engulfing the entire surface. This man was larger than he had first realized, maybe twice or thrice his size. It was both exhilarating and petrifying.

\- Are you all right?

Keith pouted, leaning back in the sofa, keenly aware of how bad it looked.

\- Is that a repeat of the last conversation? Should I take your hand now?

Shiro chuckled softly, removing his hand and standing back up. He sat on the arm of Keith’s chair, looking down at him.

\- No need to be offensive this time.

He smirked, playful. Keith pouted but relished at the sudden closeness. Shiro’s body radiated heath, a comforting bubbled that enveloped him, made him feel safer.

\- Well, Mr. Kogane, I must say this is a most unusual situation. I do believe you were correct in assuming it wasn’t her after all. Intriguing. What a set back.

Shiro and Keith both looked up at him, remembering that the doctor was still in the room. Keith grimaced, looking away, his cheeks flushed, while Shiro tilted his head to the side, puzzled.

\- Do not question me with those eyes Shirogane, you know I can’t divulge information on a patient, but I must say, the boy is the most intriguing case I’ve had in my entire career.

He hummed, rubbing a long finger on his jaw while he stared at Keith.

\- Should I make another appointment?

\- No need. If you could go see Ezor, Mr. Kogane. She is ready for you.

Keith nodded, standing up. He looked at the trashcan, both ashamed and relieved that he had not dreamed the entire debacle. He thanked Lotor and nodded at Shiro, spinning on his toes to get out of the room.

\- Hey.

He stopped, looking back at Shiro. The man grinned and threw a package of mint gum towards him. Keith caught it swiftly, without flinching. He stared at it.

\- Better keep one of these close. Seems like this happens every time I see you. I can’t imagine how often that must happen.

Keith paused, staring at the gum. He took one and smiled tiredly at Shiro.

\- Thanks.

He walked out of the room, pulling back from the need to confess to Shiro why he was feeling like this. He grabbed at his heart, when the wrenching feeling clawed at his chest, similar to last time. Walking to Ezor’s desk, the pain smoothed down into a dull jab in rhythm with his heartbeat. He looked at his hand, wondering how long it would all last.

Law forbade homosexuality.

He could not help being attracted to this man. He felt the natural pull, even while he was in the other room. His heart was reaching out, his body almost responding.

A teenager’s phase. That is how Lotor had called it. He could not have children with Shiro. He had not future, no guarantee that the man felt the same. His Countdown had pointed at him, but his soulmate’s had been taken with his right arm. Another kind of torture settled in his mind as he followed Ezor deep in the twisted corridors of the office.

A heartache.

A heartbreak.

Distress, desolation, misery.

A longing for the single thing his entire society denied him…

 

True love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I was able to put one of the Lotor gals in here.  
> Ezor is my favorite of the bunch. <3
> 
> For all of those who are curious, some added détails, which will not be mentioned in the original story:  
> \- Ezor lost her Countdown while getting her tattoos, the tattoo artist jabbed at the embedded wires and destroyed the thing when she was 18.  
> \- Ezor DOES hope Shiro is her soulmate (like all of us, I mean... who wouldn't want him right?)  
> \- No jab at Matthew Holt being illustrious, it was just too good to pass up. (my favorite dork Matt is)
> 
> Kudos and comments are loooved! <3
> 
> Come chat with me about this fic, or just about Sheith and Voltron stuff: seiteki9.tumblr.com


	4. Soulfakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally sit down and have a chat...

After a good hour of testing, prodding, questioning, being given and drilled up about his medication, Keith crawled out of the building, squinting under the sun. He pushed aside the feeling of nausea he still had, which was now manageable due to the drugs he ingested and took a deep breath. Someone stepped in front of him, casting a shadow and he was blinding by a genuine smile.

 

\- Hey. First time I see you standing without looking green. Feeling better?

 

Looking up, the young man just stared. It was a thing lately, all this staring and looking and gaping at this one single man he seemed to meet at around every corner. This perfect man he was not allowed to have, which pulled at his heartstrings by just existing.

 

\- Shiro... I, yeah, they gave me medicine to help.

 

He paused, wondering about the man's presence.

 

\- Are appointments always this long?

 

Shiro shook his head, tilting his body slightly to the side so that he could look at Keith's face better. His fringe had been slicked back on the top of his head and a few strands were sticking to his forehead, giving him this carefree look Keith ridiculously appreciated. Well, at least he was not thinking about his overall look, I mean... the half open shirt sticking to his skin, or the tight black jeans and the stringy leather necklace jealously circling his neck like a choker. He really WAS NOT thinking about that... Much... Right... Keith had it bad, really bad.

 

\- They aren't. I just wanted to wait for you.

 

Keith almost stuttered his response, getting control of his tongue just in time before he made a fool of himself.

 

\- You waited? Why?

 

Shiro shrugged, raising his shoulders in a carefree manner.

 

\- Dunno. I'm hungry, thought you might be. I don't want it to sound like pity but... Since the throwing up always happens when I'm around, I feel bad.

 

\- It's not your fault.

 

His words were blurted out in an attempt to hide the half truth of the situation.

 

Because... maybe it WAS, just a little bit his fault, somewhat, but Keith figured he should not mention that. Besides, who would want a male soulmate in a society like theirs? And anyway, soulmate was not a words to be used between them, soulfakes was a better match. Good, now that that was decided, Keith felt he should be feeling better, which was not the case.

 

\- It may not be, but I can still treat you. Come on.

 

The man just grinned, his entire body language relaxed and comfortable. Keith could not help but feel like this was the closest thing to being asked on a date he had ever dealt with. It was not, per say, but... it sure felt like it. This kind man he barely knew either felt genuine concern or wanted something in return. The young man hoped it was not the latter.

 

Accepting had not been on his mind, but his mouth ran away without him before he could think up a lie to refuse.

 

\- I guess... it's fine?

 

Shiro's grin widened, he laughed happily and turned, starting to walk towards a small cafe just down the street, beckoning Keith to follow. They walked besides one another in a strangely comfortable silence, the taller man opening the door for him with a smile. They both ordered, Shiro payed (as promised) and Keith only opened his mouth when they had sat down and tasted their coffee.

 

\- I wanted to apologize as well.

 

Looking up, his gaze puzzled, Shiro gave him a confused smile clearly wondering what he was talking about.

 

\- I was really rude when we first met and... I could barely string two words together... and you were so nice... and I am really sorry about how I just touched your arm without asking. I realized earlier what you meant about others being put out by it. That was dumb... you don't have a Countdown... even thought I really don't mind it at all. I mean, it's not your fault, isn't it?

 

Shiro stared at him for a while, his eyes turning dark in possible grief or maybe self hatred. He sipped on his coffee with his left hand, his prosthetic resting on his lap, hidden under thick black gloves. He put the cup back down, taking a deep breath. Keith watched as he turned his head to the window, his skin catching the sunlight and glowing. He closed his eyes for a few long moments and opened them back. The darkness in them gone, he turned his head back.

 

\- It's not.

 

He smiled softly.

 

\- It's all right. You clearly meant nothing by it. I'm just surprised that someone with a working screen did not see the problem instantly.

 

Keith's brows tightened together in a slight frown.

 

\- Does it bother people that much? I mean, what does it matter? It's YOUR arm that was lost, not theirs. **You** should be upset, not them.

 

Shiro took a fry from his plate, throwing it in his mouth.

 

\- It **is** making me upset.

 

\- I would be upset loosing an arm too.

 

Shiro's expression turned into a complicated frown. He chewed on his lower lip, tapping on the table restlessly. Pushing his plate to the side, he brought his prosthetic on the table, joining both his hands together for a moment. Then let go, pressing his fingers on his right wrist. He brushed the fabric gently, visibly hoping for something that was not there anymore.

 

\- The loss of my Countdown is making me more upset than my arm actually. You know... I used to dream about meeting my soulmate when I was young. I would stay up all night just imagining stories of the faithful meeting when the count would reach zero. How we would grab each others hands and just be... happy. Now, I'm not even sure they would want to do that...

 

Keith might had not been very emphatic, but he really could see how this man was suffering. His soulmate, hating being judged. The man sighed loudly, grumbling.

 

\- Why am I even telling you this? We don't even know each other...

 

Keith laughed lightly, taking his sandwich in his hand. He reached out with his other, hesitating, but finally rested it on top of Shiro's, which was still pressed to his wrist. _« Emphasis, not the need to touch him, just emphasis to my own words »_ , he told himself.

 

\- I was wondering about the same thing actually. But hey, for all it's worth, since, like you said, we don't know each other... Technically, a soulmate should love you for who you are, with missing pieces, replaced pieces and all. I don't think you have to be so afraid, I've met you just a few times and you seem like a really kind man, any girl would be lucky to have you.

 

Keith flushed at his own words and took a bite from his sandwich. He pulled his hand away, grabbing his coffee as a need to keep it busy so that the gesture did not seem as strange as he thought it was.

 

\- ...but you know, don't take my words too seriously. Pidge says I have the empathy of a rock so... yeah. I believe her.

 

Shiro let him touch without a complaint, which was good he thought. He shifted in his seat, tension releasing from his shoulders as he rested his chin on the back of his left hand. Keith thought it was sad how he refused to use the prosthetic, it felt like a burden, a piece of useless metal just taking space.

 

\- Thanks Mr Emphatic Rock.

 

He chuckled.

 

\- ...it's a really nice thing to say. Any girl would be lucky to have you too. Well, I guess that girl probably knows that already. Is it how they write it? If you don't mind me asking.

 

Looking away, the young man felt his skin flush all the way to his neck. Oh god, Shiro was merciless wasn't he. He muttered under his breath.

 

\- Lucky to have me? I bet you're the only person in the world who thinks that.

 

Shiro laughed at his answer, but did not elaborate.

 

Keith paused, considering the other half of his question.

 

\- …is it how they write what?

 

Shiro leaned forward, smiling eagerly, making Keith pull back in discomfort.

 

\- Meeting your soulmate! Does your heart feel complete? Were there sparks and angels singing? I don't know. Did you feel like dancing, and hugging, and kissing? Is she everything you thought she would be?

 

His laugh bubbled up his throat in embarrassment.

 

\- They make it like such a big deal in books and movies. I've never dared asking anybody else about it.

 

How Shiro was saying « she » kept stabbing Keith in the heart. He held himself back from clutching at it, gazing back down at his meal, not really hungry anymore.

 

\- I... well, I did not tell them so... no dancing, hugging or kissing. My heart DOES feel full when I'm around them I suppose.

 

He let himself finally grab his chest, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Shiro's presence, he realized, gave him such comfort, he wanted to be wrapped in it. He really DID want to be hugged and loved. What he would give for him to just reach out and cradle him in his arms. He would give anything.

 

_« ... you should be aware that law prohibits homosexuality. »_

 

He opened back his eyes, flinching as Lotor's words still stung. Right... soulfake, he had decided that already. He should stop wishing and get on with real life. He was supposed to get married, have children with a woman, because _« law prohibits homosexuality »_. Of course...

 

\- That sounds lovely... I hope mine tells me. I bet there is no such thing as _« stars aligning »_ , seeing this person and just KNOWING it's them. It would feel wonderful however.

 

Keith looked back up and his gut twisted when he noticed how forlorn Shiro looked. He knew he had the answer, he could just, reach out, tell him the truth. They would deal with it, wouldn't they? It's what he wanted, screw society, forget everything else. Shiro wanted this, he wanted love and he wished to be happy.

 

Keith's fingers twitched at that simple thought, but he held back. Forcing Shiro to face the ugly side of the world was not a resolution he wished for. His soulmate was already torn by his current situation, missing a limb, feeling cast aside. Being with Keith would be detrimental at best. Not withstanding the fact that they would be shunned, he knew that he was not _« good »_ , as far as the definition of the word implied. He had all these faults, bad habits, had no strength of his own, rode Pidge's coattail most of the time and was reckless, broken and just... ugly. Revolting, in and out.

 

The young man still forced a chuckle out, he was glad it sounded more natural than he felt.

 

\- I am certain many girls have already tried telling you their Countdown went to zero for you. I wouldn't be so scared if I was you. You're attractive, I bet people like you a lot.

 

Shiro's expression turned sour.

 

\- Oh yeah, happens all the time. Then they touch my hand and they BOLT. People don't like broken furniture, they want what's best. I am not the best.

 

\- I seriously doubt that.

 

\- Why would you doubt people bolting because of this torn in my side?

 

His words were bitter, spat at Keith's face in anger while he waved his metal arm abruptly. It surprised Keith how it really did not bother him, he thought, Shiro was entitled to be upset about his situation. It was actually a feeling he understood well, being rejected by the world, abandoned to rot with his own troubles and problems.

 

He had a small smile, soften by the natural kinship he had with Shiro. Even upset, this man enveloped his heart in warmth. He wondered about that, while answering carefully.

 

\- I don't. I meant about you not being the best.

 

Shiro stopped, leaning back in his chair, his arm falling in a loud thud on the table. The tightness in his features slackened, his jaw releasing and his mouth opened in surprise. A small flush bruised his cheeks, blending with the color of the scar on his nose. His laugh came like thunder, surprising Keith almost out of his skin.

 

\- Now you're just trying to butter me up Keith.

 

\- Maybe I am.

 

The older man laughed some more, hiding his face in his hands, which made Keith laugh as well. The moment of pure happiness was too short, as Shiro's laughter died down. He still grinned, eating a few fries, while he watched Shiro, his face still in his hands. His companion's grip tightened, pulling at his own hair, making the young man's eyebrows rise up to his hairline.  
  


What...?

 

\- Is... Is it because you are preparing to run away?

 

Oh...

 

\- Why would you think that... I would never.

 

There was no proof of how Keith might react or not to Shiro's words. They barely knew each others names, let alone any other personal details outside of what they had spoken of. He knew that this man was deeply hurt, but that was about it. While he could only be this sickly child he had picked up, that he was stuck with.

 

\- I think it because it's what people do. So why wouldn't you?

 

It was a fair question.

 

\- Because I like you. I don't know why, but I like you.

 

To which Keith had no real answer to. Well he did, but again... soulfakes and all. He was tired of just thinking about the entire lie his own Countdown made him live with. He felt like he was walking on eggs, wedged between spikes, running away from a river of lava while trying to balance his sanity with his will to live.

 

\- ...why is it so easy to talk to you, I don't get it.

 

Shiro lowered his hands on the table. He seemed tired, exhausted even.

 

\- I don't get it either. I never talk to anybody. You have some kind of super power I think.

 

\- That's some skill, « getting Keith to talk ». It'll save the world!

 

They chuckled together again, the words whispered between themselves, private. Keith caught himself liking the entire interaction, he found himself imagining spending evenings just chatting with this man, sharing a pizza while watching crappy b-rated movies, geeking out on Star Trek maybe, just sharing a peaceful part of themselves.

 

He closed his eyes and pushed it away, before it started hurting. The inevitable denial.

 

Shiro pulled his plate back and they continued eating in companionable silence. It lasted longer than it ever did with anybody, this gentle comfort they seemed to naturally share. It appeased him, making his heart even fuller, bathed in the gentle glow that was Shiro.

 

When he finally broke the silence, it was with a question that the man probably did not mean to ask.

 

\- You didn't tell her about being soulmates. ...why?

 

Keith could not help but click his tongue in annoyance. Not at Shiro, but at the fact that he could not... WOULD NOT explain the whys and the hows of his choices in the matter.

 

\- Sorry... I'd rather not... say...

 

Shiro bend forward, visibly distressed, his eyes widened. His hands gripped at the table, whitening his knuckles.

 

\- I don't understand, wouldn't you want to...!!

 

Keith looked up at him. He wondered if he had seemed mad, annoyed or sad, because it stopped Shiro on his tracks, shutting his mouth immediately. He leaned back, letting go of the table, resolved. He looked down again.

 

\- Of course. I'm sorry. Lets eat and talk about less personal stuff.

 

The rest of their meal was slightly uncomfortable for a while and they eventually leaned into easy conversation about school and life in general.

 

Shiro was actually a student. He had returned to school after being in the army, which had probably cost him his arm, the young man thought. He animatedly talked about his major, astrophysics, with so much passion it made Keith smile fondly.

 

He prodded Keith about himself and was glad when he consented in giving away SOME information about his own school life, about Pidge, his own major (What? ART?! You don't LOOK like an art major!) and his current job at the mini-mart (Must be horrible...).

 

After two hours that felt less, they walked together to his bike, chatting in a friendly manner. Keith thought he would be glad if Shiro at least would be his friend. Having a soulmate as a friend did not sound as bad as being alone without one at all.

 

They stopped besides his motorcycle and he sat on it, grabbing his helmet.

 

\- Wow... I had noticed how you rode that last time. But doesn't it... work with fuel?

 

Keith looked down at his beast. It was a rather smile machine, colored in blacks and reds, which he had painted himself, with a small red lion on the old fuel tank. He smirked at Shiro, patting the engine between his legs.

 

\- She used to, but I modified the engine for a sun-powered, battery pack model I found in a junk yard. She does okay on sunny days.

 

Shiro kneeled down, examining it with interest.

 

\- You did it yourself?

 

\- With Pidge's help.

 

\- Impressive.

 

Leaning back in his seat, Keith grinned at Shiro's words of praise. He was proud of his baby and loved her to death. The young man loved few things in his life and his bike was one of them. If he had the talent, he would have made a career in racing, but there is the dream and the possibility to reach it.

 

\- She packs a mighty punch when I attach the over-bike extension. The best part is when you fly over water, it's so soundless, I love it. It feels like flying.

 

Shiro gaped at him

 

\- You have an OVER-BIKE extension? Is that... how is that... you can't possibly have that.

 

He felt smug at Shiro's answer. He knew that without the mighty genius that was Pidge, he would never have achieved the feat, but many years of blood, sweat and tears had served them right.

 

\- I can and I do. Because Pidge's IQ is too high to be evaluated. Worked on it for about 5 years before we got it working. I'll let you ride next time if you want.

 

Standing back up, Shiro tilted his head to the side in surprise.

 

\- You will?

 

\- Yeah.

 

He raised his right hand, closing his fist and reopening it while staring at it.

 

\- Aren't you afraid I'll hurt you?

 

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he extended a hand and grabbed Shiro's tightly, which made the man jump. His body froze, his eyes widening, his pupils shrinking to tiny dots. Keith squeezed his hand gently.

 

\- Will you stop. I don't care about your arm. It's part of you and you won't hurt me. So stop talking about it like it's a murder weapon.

 

Then smiled at the older man.

 

They both stared at one another (again with the staring... he needed to STOP that...) and Shiro was the one to back away first. He nervously checked his pockets and eventually pulled out his communication device, handing it to Keith.

 

\- Here.

 

Keith blinked in surprise.

 

\- What?

 

\- Give me your number. I'll message you and we can go out again and have fun if you want. I'll let myself get tempted by the over-bike ride. Sounds really neat.

 

Keith reached out again and stopped, his fingers grazing the device, his eyes fixed on Shiro's. He hesitated, if he accepted he might not be able to pull away. He might not be able to stop himself from feeling more for this man than he should.

 

\- ...are you sure? You won't be able to take it back if you contact me you know.

 

So he gave Shiro a way out.

 

\- Yes. Yes I am sure.

 

But Shiro did not take it.

 

It was only much later, when he received a simple written message that Keith regretted his decision.

 

**T. Shirogane : Hey! Tomorrow, at lunch time. Cafeteria?**

 

His fingers hovered on his screen, he put it down and paced around his room. Feeling warm, he pulled of his leather jacket and gloves, stopping in front of his window. Looking up at the sky, he pouted, realizing the city was not the best place to watch the stars. He'd have to talk to Shiro about that, he bet, being in astrophysics, he knew good places to stargaze. Wait... he could not do that. He was supposed to PULL AWAY.

 

The green of his screen reflected on the glass of his window. He raised his arm and looked at the number, they were pacing.

 

Shiro was pacing.

 

Waiting for an answer?

 

Immediately feeling bad, he rushed back to the device and picked it up, typing quickly before he changed his mind again.

 

**K. Kogane : See you there!**

 

The pacing stopped.

 

**T. Shirogane : Great! Good night!**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just watched season 5 and I am SUFFERING you guys.  
> And here I'm writing this thing and my babies are still unhappy. I need to write about love and not the crushing dread of being alone for the rest of your stupid life.  
> Oh god...
> 
> HOPE YOU LIKED THE NEW EPISODES!  
> I CAN'T WAIT FOR JUNE!
> 
>  
> 
> Kudos and comments are always loooved. <3
> 
> Come chat with meeee (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)  
> seiteki9.tumblr.com


	5. The question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge POV and then some.

There were days like these that Pidge felt she might want to dress prettier, and others when a potato sac would do just fine. She replied to the question: “So what are you? A girl or a guy?” with a simple answer: “Why does it matter to you?” People’s involvedness with her reproductive organs annoyed her to no end. She did not care how people **called** her, she did not care how people **saw** her, as long as they kept their dirty paws off and their thoughts to themselves. Which they usually did not. People were so entitled in this day and age, it made the years 2000s weep in shame.

The entire thing made her relationship with Keith easy, he just called her Pidge, used the pronoun she and did not care about the rest. Wishing for everybody else to feel the same was a fool’s errand. This entire name giving of sexuality and type thing had started decades ago and the war still raged on. Especially since the instigation of the Countdown laws. The entire idea her ancestors developed had been her own undoing. Labels were not her thing; she just was who she was. Pidge. That was who she was.

She was not like Keith, she did not hate the Countdown, she just LOATHED her soulmate. The idea of him made her blood run cold, freezing in her veins. The uncaring philanderer who loved perfect big-breasted blonds, he could die for all she cared, as long as it hurt, she would be happy.

When she felt the stones weight her stomach, she always knew he was around. She had read about it, how when one refused to acknowledge their soulmate, the Countdown sent signals to the digestive track, making people different levels of nauseous. It was the most annoying bug in the system, one they refused to repair, calling it now a “feature”. Breaking her own screen had not solved the issue and no matter how she searched or hacked computers, firewalls, government eyes-only databases or military high command servers, she could not find clear answers.

Gibberish was her thing, she could poke someone’s processor in the eye and still get away with it, but she was not satisfied with a solution such as “The Countdown is not just a screen.” She knew this the moment she smashed her monitor, it hurt like hell, but she still felt like throwing up and her soul get ripped out when Lance stalked away from her.

They had been young, she 12 and he 16. Being this tiny, scrawny barely teen had been his undoing. He had screamed at her, calling her a gremlin, ugly and male.

_I don’t want to date an ugly **dude**!_

_What? Are you blind? I’m not a GUY, I’m a GIRL!_

_Well you sure look like one Gremlin. Get away from me! I don’t give a SHIT what the Countdown says, you’re a fucking mistake!_

Even today, every time she crossed him in the university’s corridors, his words stung. She wanted to be over it, but she could not, the very definition of their society denied her that simple wish. Now 22, she was asked every day by her fellow classmates about her soulmate and how many children she wanted. Most of them did not know the state of her device, since she kept it bandaged. It kept the curious scr00bs away and she was glad for it.

She abhorred her own heart when she had seen him the day before. The feel of her stomach, she had surmised, was her worry for her friend. He was never sick, let alone feeling nauseated, so her own queasiness was set aside. When he had stepped in the room, fresh as a daisy, she had then understood the rocks in her gut.

She was used to it by now, it was just a light uncomfortable heaviness she had dealt with during her few years in school. She knew the guy was around and she was good at ignoring him.

She was a master at hiding her feelings, but why in the world did he look so good? Tall, skin a mellow rich brown, eyes a vibrant blue, he walked with such poise, it was unsettling. That is, until SHE came in. The colossal woman, chocolate brown, cloudy hair, she had seen her around Lance a lot. Not that she was looking.

It just meant that she also knew who Shiro was. Tall, handsome, a calm, private person, and always smiling. He was kind, they had talked before, and had talked again just now.

_Oh Pidge, it’s been a while. Is this your friend?_

_Shiro! Yes! What happened? Is he hurt?_

_No, he collapsed after throwing up. I’m not sure why… I think I might have hurt his wrist. His scream was… “soul shattering”?_

_Soul shattering. Are you a poet?_

_I wish. (laugh) I brought him here right away. The nurse does not know what is wrong with him, but she says he is stable for now, but he should see a doctor. Shall I drive you two?_

_No need. We’ll manage._

Shiro was selfless. He seemed to love everybody, while Lance loved just himself. Pidge wanted to spit at her soulmate’s feet. Prick, fucker, jerk, and good-looking asshole. Shit. She wanted somebody like Shiro, but Shiro clearly was not hers. She knew, the moment Keith had asked for a bucket, the nausea she also felt. Either his soulmate had been this “Allura” person, or Shiro. She knew about the pull and Allura had not cared to twats about Keith. It could only be Shiro. Shiro was Keith’s.

She really needed to find information on the Countdown, it was MAKING her care for Lance AND it was matching two males. She did not want to care and knew how much of a hell it would probably be for her best friend. She only wished to be left alone, have a thousand cats and lock herself up in a silly haunted mansion where she could destroy every bit of data that existed about her family and override the coding on the Countdown, destroy the foundation of their society in one fell swoop. Just like how her favorite childhood cartoon said: _“Gee, Brain, what do you want to do tonight?” “Brain: The same thing we do every night, Pinky, try to take over the world!”_ If that is what it took for her to be satisfied, she would do everything in her power reach it!

Reach peace and save Keith from imminent internal destruction, which was definitely bound to happen around Shiro.

She pried the door of her lab open, almost ripping it out of its hinges when she remembered her interaction with her soulmate. He had winked at her.

FUCKING WINKED AT HER.

That skirt chasing, shameless, idiotic son of a freaking bitch! She wanted to kill him.

She slammed her door shut, ignoring the rattle in the nearby bookcases, and walked to her set up. Her computers were her life, she owned about twenty and kept five at school at all times. There was about ten kilometers of wires alone in this room, connecting every device in a well-balanced matrix. Sitting down on her chair, she rolled to her main unit.

\- Hey Green, rise and shine.

The computer pinged and lit up, triggering a wave of light in the room as all other monitors responded to her call.

\- Good day Master Pidge.

\- Anything new today my girl?

Pidge picked up her tablet, scrolling down at the data she saw every day. Meaningless numbers and charts rolled down, making her mind numb.

\- Yes Master. The unity has hacked into the chosen secure mainframe in China. Results are posted on your tablet under CHICOUNT99873. The keyword “Countdown” is repeated 3 482 times within the main branch of the server. It was deemed unnecessary to repeat the process for the remainder of the database. Do you wish us to proceed?

\- No need. Any other keywords?

\- Several. Classified – 54 times, monitor – 637 times and soulmate – 1 629 times, other keywords numbers were negligible compared to the set charts. We have also found a hidden folder, which we are presently unable to decode. It is name BBcss42p10 and was disguised as a dll file. However, there were no executable programs linked to it. Do you wish to see the password coding?

Cracking her fingers, she grinned. Get things out of her head and her fingers running on a keyboard, best therapy.

\- Rock my world Kitt!

***

It was out of boredom that he pulled himself out of his house. They gave a few vacation days from work, due to his illness, which probably would not stop any time soon, so Keith was home. He did think, at some point, that he would enjoy the quiet of his home and could spend time working on his bike, but two hours into greasing gears that had no need for any extra care, he found himself sprawled out on the floor of his make-shift garage, mostly a toolshed barely bigger than a king sized bed.

On the third round of knocking the rhythm of Hotel California (whch he hated with a PASSION) of the metallic wall with his knuckles, he got himself up, pushed his bike out of the shed and road off. Pidge had wanted news, he would give her news.

Parking at the university, he swallows his medication without water, crushing on the dry white pill with a grimace. Technically, there were about as many chance he would cross Shiro in the Computer science labs than jeans jackets coming back in style. Having Pidge for a friend still made he believe in statistics and his Countdown might be doing “a thing” he did not know about. Take the pills, they won’t kill you and you’ll be glad if you actually DO cross the man of your dreams.

He grabbed his wrist, feeling no more pain than usual. Good.

The medication made him drowsy, so by the time he reached the labs, he had to stifle a yawn with the back of his hand. Knocking loudly and barked at the door.

\- Hey nerd, it’s Keith.

\- Just a mo!

She yelled back and he heard her talking some more. Talking with her computer no doubt. He shook his head. She had some strange relationship with her color-coded wonders, he had tried once to ask her about it. Her answer had been peculiar. He could not quite recall it, not that it presently mattered.

He did not try to open the door, since she was keen on privacy, so he waited. Yawning some more, he felt the sudden wave of nausea constrict his throat. It made him cough, as the door opened, showing a grinning Shiro.

The man’s grin faded when he noticed Keith’s state.

\- Are you okay?

The concern in his voice was unsettling. He stepped forward, reaching up and resting his left hand on Keith’s forehead. The warmth of his palm was soothing. The young man closed his eyes, feeling his stomach settle.

\- No, yeah. I’m fine. I… I won’t throw up.

Pidge scoffed, annoyed.

\- Still sick aren’t you. That’s some great clinic Matt sent you to.

Shiro let go of Keith, stepping aside and letting him in. He smiled softly, the same hand resting on the top of his back as if to lead him towards Pidge. The warmth was gone within seconds, as the sound of the closing door reached Keith’s ears.

\- They actually gave me medicine that help. They make me sleepy.

\- What did they give you?

He threw the bottle at her, which she caught without even looking. Shiro whistled, impressed, passing by Keith and sitting at the computer to her left. He swivelled around in the chair and watched her. Pidge eyes the tag and shrugs, tossing it back. Keith catches it back, stuffing the offensive bottle back in his pants.

\- It’s dimenhydrinate. It’s totally normal.

\- Right, that’s a word, good word, but in what language and what does it mean?

Shiro chuckles which makes Keith’s heart do some sort of backflip. He coughs again and finally walks forward, stopping behind Pidge. He leans forward to see what she is working on, as always, he has no clue.

\- It’s Gravol, dumb dumb.

He sighs, slightly annoyed.

\- Couldn’t you have just said that?

She kicks the chair to her right, telling him to sit down, so he does. As always, she’s having him sit in front of Red. He liked Red for some reason, not that they could communicate, but the monitor always showed straightforward answers. He respected that. Pidge had told him it was programmed to do that, so having respect meant nothing, but it made sense to him.

\- No. Because it’s not really Gravol, not over the counter. It’s a larger dose and you still feel sick? That’s some intense bond you’re dealing with.

\- You don’t say… just my luck. Again, what do you mean?

Crossing his legs, he leaned back, his gaze drifting towards Shiro who had turned towards the black screen. He was typing something down, at a respectable pace, following instructions written on a small piece of paper to his right. While Pidge’s hands were flying across her keyboard.

\- Right, we never talked about it huh. I guess we never did. It’s a thing I deal with too. I don’t need medicine to stop myself from emptying my stomach every two steps however.

Keith saw how Shiro’s gaze flicked to her, eyes widening slightly.

\- It makes you sick when you see your soulmate?

She nods, her eyes not leaving her screen.

\- All the time. Notwithstanding the fact that seeing his stupid FACE makes me want to spit at it, it does make me nauseous. To a different level, but a glass of water always sets me straight. I’ve never actually thrown up because of him and it only started after… we crossed paths again, not when we first met.

\- Does he go here?

\- He does.

She sighs, pushing away from her desk.

\- Green, pause. Listen Keith, you KNOW I’ve been looking into this, right? There’s something wrong with the Countdown and you are clearer proof that I’m right. We both agree that this fucked up society is bullying more than half it’s population into absolution. The original SIN, sex is for procreation and bla bla bla. Christianism is having a field day with this entire joke. When it started, they must of gotten a thousand “Sorry father, I have sinned” kind of speeches. Marriage, children, no homosexuality, pedophilia is halfway gone, or so they believe, people think they are happy. Eve was a bitch and we deserve the entire mess. Men are back to leading the world, because a MAN found the answer. It makes my blood curdle.

\- Nerd, we’ve actually talking about that already. Very often. At least once a week even. Is today the once?

She crosses her arms, lifting a leg and resting her foot on his lap, visibly annoyed. It was the way they connected, just this simple touch. They did not hug, did not touch hands, but she did this. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

\- Sorry, I’m babbling. So yeah, the throwing up, I do know the why. According to my research, when you deny your soulmate, the device sends information to your digestive track to make you think otherwise. On my part, it’s just an annoying twist and it makes me want to stay away from that piss bottle of a human being. Most people however, want it to stop and they acknowledge who ever they are supposed to be with. Besides, if they don’t the law is against them. You know this.

He did know this. The law was very clear, people were to watch up and have as many children as possible. Pidge had been young when her faithful meeting came around, so they left her alone. For now.

\- There’s a problem with what you just said.

\- I know there is.

Looking at each other, they both understood what he had meant. Opening their mouths, they said it in unison, while Shiro just stared at the entire scene.

\- You’re / I’m not denying my soulmate.

He can’t help his eyes from drift towards Shiro after he says this. The man looked serene, not at all bothered by the conversation they were having. He seemed more curious than anything else.

Keith looked quickly away, turning to Red; her screen was black. He wished he had something to see on it, it would make the entire conversation less strange, especially with Shiro around. Why was he even around?

\- Why is it happening then?

\- I’m sorry. I can’t answer that question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU COMMENT, PLEASE TAKE THE TIME TO READ THIS
> 
> I had a hard time with this chapter, so I figured I should write about Pidgeon.  
> But a few side notes...
> 
> \- Pidge is a possible representation of nonbinary. She might not at all be how you feel about yourself and in no way represents the entire gender. She speaks loads about my feelings about gender, even though I am CIS female. I do know quite a few nonbinary, and some of them feel mostly like this, even though I am not at all in their head.
> 
> \- The Christianism speech... Do know that I do not hate any religion what-so-ever, this is simply part of the story. I have strong respect for the kind of belief that makes people so driven to step into the world and do good, as Christianism as done time and time again. And still do.  
> I, however, was not blessed with the gift of belief. Pidge's words still do not reflect my own in any way.
> 
> If you feel offended by what I have written today, I am deeply sorry and I hope you do accept my apologies.
> 
> Comments and kudos are loved and cherished. <3
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me:  
> seiteki9.tumblr.com


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